"When the stars were right, They could plunge from world to world through the sky; but when the stars were wrong, They could not live." H.P. Lovecraft
As I stare off ominously into the omnipresent void, I can never quite formulate the fathoms from which my mind can misrepresent itself. I see -- over the rising clouds, castles, and cathedrals -- the passing of time and the distant reaching of the world not known to a mind of mine. That which once existed and were prescribed inside the body that I once was. That body is gone now, and far distant it is lost amongst the planes of existence as a footprint in the foothold of what I remember vaguely to be my reality. I continue to stare aimlessly and outwardly, as visual images begin flashing before mines eyes .
The very universe at the reach of my grasp and unfolding itself before my vision and unraveling its secrets right before me. Pyramids and cyclopean monoliths of ancient civilizations and alien worlds spread vastly out amongst the very tip of my finger, and yet infinitely out beyond the stars and the black coldness of the void. Both my sense of depth as far as it relates to perception is but an intermingling illusion, as the cosmos and all of the creation of existence I see before me, continue to completely correlate itself within my consciousness.
Out in that infinite void, I can hear the frequencies of vigintillions of wavelengths humming through my mind. Penetrating its perimeter and shocking its senses into a reality that is obscure to my knowledge. Echoes of faraway spaces and places, mimicking in monotony the screaming sounds of sadness and sedition. Crying to me to come forth and coddle them. The void now opens, disentangling its nasty dissidence as the flames of ultimate fire begin to flow. I float now, upon this plain of boundless physical and mental pain -- now and forevermore. I accept now and welcome the ultimate cataclysm that unfurls itself before me. Like a hypnotic whirlwind, the glowing red fire comes flailing at me in a swirl of sadistic servitude. As if being directed by a maestro far out in that pit of darkness.
That same gloom and doom I now accept as a vacuum of nothingness, that encircles itself into what I now accept to be my new reality. I sail amongst the stars, watching my world burn above, around, and beneath me eternally as there is no end of time or end of destruction to ever be had. Amongst the unbearable misery, torment, and chaos I can merely cackle to myself and smile. Knowing that out there somewhere in that everlasting void, the fires burn brighter and brighter, and a mind of mine drifts further and further into madness.
Tabitha -- A sadistic witch disguised and possessed by the demon known as Stheno -- The birth giver of the twins through immaculate conception
The journey dredging through the endless miles of snow and powerful gusts of wind have given both the twins frostbite, as their bare minimum of clothing in which theybear constituted primarily of what most would be conceived to be sleepwear rather than adventuring through the frozen tundra. A pair of ragged jeans and ripped plain white t-shirts to match their torn apart sneakers. The shoes that they wear have little to no soles at the bottoms of their feet. The majority of their flesh exposed to the frigid elements causing the normally blank, untanned, and pale white color to their skin that is custom to a shunned introverted Norway native. To instead represent the darkening hue of dark red and blue that is subject to its degree in brightness by a simple touch like a sunburn. Their normally long flowing bleach blonde hair is but a mat of icicles bunched together like dreadlock crystals swirling through their hair.
They had once held hands when they started this lamentable expedition; however, they now avoid doing so as the mere means of avoiding the development of blisters so powerful and intense they would burst and burn with a steady flow of icy puss. They have also taken to using their hands to shielding the oncoming drifts of snow and debris that continuously comes flailing before their frostbitten faces. Out over what had been an endless white horizon, a small speck of black grows larger and larger as the twins make their way closer and closer.
Rising to a peak and eventually revealing the watchtower of a distant castle. Towering and growing with each passing step and becoming more revealing. The dark and immense dimensions to this castle finally can be made apparent after what seems like hours trudging and fighting through the white furor of the perpetual snow. From the sky, a shooting star carrying a massive black rainbow behind it merges with the top of the castle in a very subtle and yet slimy way. Nestling with its peak and enveloping everything as the white sky becomes a very foreboding shade of black.
The vast cylinders of stone climbing higher and higher beyond the blanket of the now black sky, that now paints the overhead view of our two tiny chilly little children. The twins, a mere ten years old and forced to endure the trials and tribulations of monstrous mayhem that has been prescribed before them at the behest of their sick and twisted mother. The bricks of this acropolis, are of a time period far beyond the known construction of Vikings and have somehow predated the likeness of any type of structure from that area -- or any known area to mankind for that matter. Consisting of black soot that seems to ooze from its surfaces, and then mangle itself back together and form stacks that slightly move upward constantly in ascending motion.
The very ground beneath them, gurgling and sucking the lifeblood of the soil into the structure of this colossal castle. Turning the normal brown and green complexion of its colors, into the darkest shade of charcoal black that no darker shadow can subside. Slithering its way towards the sky and up towards a celestial sphere of inessential amounts of cynicism. A sky that once held a horizon, but can no longer compete with the growing cornucopia of mass black obsidian and ebony colored surroundings and has now dissipated into obscurity. The twins still march in unison, side by side, mirroring one another's steps and semblances as if they had made this same trip many times in the past. Perhaps as if this was all some sort of robotic routine they had both grown custom to.
A moat of intense size and oblong wavy structure surrounds the citadel, and as in biblical suggestions is filled to the almost overflowing top of the riverbank with a thick and red river of blood. The opaque thickness and weight in even the smallest drop of plasma from the river are exemplary. Incredibly heavy-bodied and containing what minor amount of fluid to allow for slight lubrication between the chemical components it consists of. Causing it to travel more like lava over a channel of rocks, slowly and with the distinct crawl of sluggish solidarity as the tributaries meet the steams, which in then meet the estuaries.
Flowing as a mass in unison and conglomerated consistency from the sky where once the star fell to the earth. As if the star had used a paintbrush and plastered a trail of red that came from the heaven's above and landed from a giant invisible waterfall to flow in the same manner it fell from the sky to the ground below. The rainbow had been black before; however, as if the night sky had been cut with a knife by the passing movement of the star, it had now begun to bleed red from the wound the star had left behind.
A giant drawbridge comes crashing down upon them, slamming itself inches in front of the faces of the twins who seem not even the slightest bit alarmed. Neither one of them so much as blinking as the bridge slaps down in front of them. The demoniac wind begins to howl behind them encouraging them to cross and leave the barren arctic snow lands behind them. The identical twin brothers give one final nod to one another in perfect reciprocity before pacing their way up the ramp and inside the haunted acropolis. The drawbridge quickly folds up behind them the same way it came so abruptly to open. The baying of the wind dies down from behind them as their backs no longer feel like a guide was pushing them through the doorway and inside.
Inside the fortress, a distinct disparity from the outside is immediately realized. A luminous and immense room barren and empty but of such massive size and stature, it would almost be comparable to being outdoors. As no walls, ceilings, or floorboards cease to exist. Beneath their feet, nothing but a canvas of marble flooring as white and bright as the snow that was falling on the outside. Above them hovering menacingly while glowing and enlightening the entire outstretch of endless bounds is that black rainbow tracing star far off in the distance that shot off across the sky in a swift manner. The same star that had guided them here in the first place and taken a dive directly into the inside of the dark palace of petrification. Shining and creating the most beautiful and radiant glow upon the outstretched light of its circumference.
Inside the glow, appearing as if from the shadows drifting between the folds of light emancipating from the stars glow above, she stands to hold her outstretched arms to her two tiny little twin boys. The SATAN! loving super witch named Tabitha, draping her fingertips across the foreheads of her two twisted and dilapidated twins. Her face, a gnarled and twisted disfigurement of fleshy skin rotting off the edge of her face. Portions of it hanging off what appears to be the edges of bone with not a mere morsel of fat on not only her face but her entire body.
Her anemic and sickly looking body, swaying back and forth as she coddles both the children with her hands. Raising them both to her bosom and pulling them in close, rocking and swaying in a very melodic and rhythmic manner as if swooning the two boys into submission. As if nursing them from back in their infant stages of life. She then begins singing, in a deep low and groggy voice, a lullaby in a very disturbing way....
"O Star of wonder, star of night
Star with royal beauty bright
Westward leading, still proceeding
Guide us to thy Perfect Light"
After swaying back and forth for a few moments, Tabitha retreats backward, revealing that she in fact carries an enormous staff behind her white glimmering robe to which she raises high above her head. The twins, now kneeling and praying beneath her feet as the stars giant beams of the light flood a tunneled path leading directly to the top of her staff. As if a bolt of lightning struck the staff the power and energy of the light now funnels itself to the direct tip of the staff. As if some crystalline object were fastened to its very point, reflecting and shining all over the surroundings a spasmodic splatter of shiny strobes.
"We have come for you now, almighty (ALGOL), and ask for you to be with us for now and until forever! For it is I... Your sister Stheno! I call upon you to bring forth the power of the dark lord and bestow it upon me so that I can bestow it upon them. The time has come as the prophecy of your arrival has been foretold. Place before me now the artifact of evil that shall bring forth death and destruction and make all bow before it. Send forth, the medallion of thine MASTER! so that we can bask in its glory."
Suddenly, from off the end of her staff, the radiant glow solidifies into a natural solid-looking piece of jewelry. An inverted pentagram necklace to be precise. Consisting of immaculate textures of silver and craftsmanship so rigorously decisive and particular. As the light begins to dissipate from the source of its existence from high above, the distinct putrid smell of sulfur fills the nostrils and sinks itself into one's lungs as if stinging their organs from the inside. Tabitha tosses the exquisite looking necklace directly between the two boys whom both turn their heads to stare magnificently at its miraculous appearance from above.
"Natural selection must now take its course!"
The twins, not knowing initially how to react, stare blankly into one another's eyes. The eternal glare of doom as both of them looks deeply into the eyes of the other, not one single blink to be had by either of the pair of eyes. A glance that may have been but a fraction of a moment in time now holds deep and divine within the depths of creation and humanity. Damian would be the first to show signs of weakness, as a small teardrop congeals and falls off the end of his left cheek. Promptly when it strikes the ground, Dante reacts violently towards his brother.
Grabbing him directly by the neck and sinking the edges of his fingernails into the sides of his neck. Stomping his palms fiercely down on his twin brothers Adam's apple. Damian, now shaking and reacting violently as the one and only person he could trust in his life was now taking his very existence away from him. His face changing into darker colors quickly by the passing seconds. Deeper and deeper he buries his fists into his brother trachea, collapsing his windpipe and doing it all with a burning fire traced in the outline of the inverted pentagram in the center of his pupils.
"Hail SATAN!"
Hail SATAN!"
Hail SATAN!"
Although Damian was being choked out vigorously by his own brother from whom he shared the womb, however, he still felt obligated and still wanted to be acknowledged by his mother and twin. Although he knew horribly in his heart, that the fate of the weak was an unavoidable consequence that he, unfortunately, must now accept.
This would be the final words that Damian's lips were not able to fully utter, in fact praising the MASTER! of the dark world that he worshiped, all along beside his demented and twisted family. The instant the dead twin's body goes limp, Dante instantaneously reaches for the necklace and holds it high above his head. Dangling it just out of the reach of his tongue that is flickering menacingly in the air. Like a snake, tasting its territory in front of where it wants to slither. Reminiscent of how a child staring at a pinwheel over its crib. Dante Kyllen is completely and utterly infatuated with the artifact of evil.
His body knows no pain, as his brain has found a way to focus on the omnipotent piece of jewelry that he held before him, and so that not even the frozen ice puss-filled blisters on his hands gave him pain. His mother approaches, stepping over her now dead son in the process. She wraps the necklace around Dante's neck and bows to him as if knighting him in some bewitched ritual. He rises from his knees and stands at her attention as they lock eyes and share a subtle smile. Dante reaches for her hand, which she promptly gives to him in return and they walk off together. Hand in hand as vicious, murdering, and despicable mother and son. Left to die is his twin brother in a now ordinary room inside an ordinary castle inside an ordinary Norway.
A bleak shadow now moves across the wall towards the floorboards of where Damian's deceased body lay as the scene begins to fade. A possible rat scurrying off into the distance? Or perhaps a once thought dead lifeless finger rising for one last rebuttal to the occasion.
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